French
 GUADELOUPE    DIARY  3

                From Diary 2.
Day 5. I find a quite little Antilles coqui; Eleutherodactylus johnstonei in my kitchen. There are many in the  garden, but they are real illusive, and I haven't bothered finding one. Their whistle fills the nights.

Rain all over, they claim, and I shift a bit around in my days, and head to "capital" Pointe-á-Pitre this Sunday. It is, after all, carnival-day. The police have sealed the centre of town of – unless you think out of the box, and use a GPS. I pass the many people, already sitting on their folding chairs at nine, along the route, waiting five hours for some action. 

I ditch the car near the Saint-Antoine market, and after a coffee, is opens. Then I see the old town. It seems like some parts are given upon, but here sure are wall art. After a few loops, I get more systematic, and start next to the enormous cruise ship. And this is not the nice part of town, although charming in its own partly demolished way. 

It start to drizzle at eleven, just as I pass an Arabic restaurant at the market. Falafel it is. More and more people gather on the sidewalks, with their folding chairs and picnic baskets, and a single parade with dancers passes, then some partly dressed-up cars. What sounds like firecrackers, turns out to be short, fat whips, popular among the young boys.

I have finished the inner town, and head around the old fishing port. This in not the fancy part either. But they have large green areas and banana palms. 

Back in the edge of the centre, I get a huge glass of home-spiced rhum and a chat at a little local shop, and it taste great. 

Then at two, I hear the carnival music, and find myself a real sweet spot. Group after group passes by, many with forerunners with the real noisy whips. Besides from the traditional light dresses, monkey masks and skiing goggles are in. No doubt people are well fed, and this is a warm climate.

At five, I figure I better find the car and get out of this mess. The parade-route bends and twists it way through town, and I have parked in the middle. Just getting to the car is a hazel, as it is on the other side. And then all roads are blocked, even the one-way ones!

I kind of find a way, but for quite some time, in-between two performing groups. I passes so many desperately parked cars, several kilometres out of town. Considering it should have been a rainy day, I can’t complain over the short lunch-drizzle. The evening get its share, which is fine by me.   Highlights   All the better photos.

Day 6. I have already seen some if the planned sights on central Grande-Terre, and improvise a bit. The first stop is in Le Grande Cul-de-Sac Marin, which is a fantastic diverse area.
I start on the beach, then head into the mangrove. On the other side of the beach, I find a forest, opening up to a meadow. Then a swamp-forest, more meadows and I end in yet another mangrove near Morne Grisel, a small limestone hill. I see a few new plants like the Queen of the Night cactus. Here are also a few new birds, but not many animals in general. The mangrove has its share of mangrove- and signal-crabs. 

I aim for Morne-á-l'Eau with the black and white cemetery on a hill-side. Well, besides from generous amount of weed, it look like toilets outside in. The traffic is intense in this little town. It is scatted over a large area, but I find a square, the church – and a bakery with coffee. She get to break a €50 for tomorrow. Then I make a loop around the town, which greatest feature must be the many wall-paintings. 

I make a detour around Petit-Canal, just to see the town, harbour and beach. Neither is actually worth the drive, except for the bakery, selling me lunch. I pass Site de Duval, yet another old mill. A short stop at the mangrove at Plage de Bail reveals nothing new.

It is not far to the nice Port-Louis, and I re-visit it. In an effort to do something else, I take a long swim at the perfect white-sand beach. The plan was to swim, till I was cold, but after half an hour, I get restless; not cold. We are less than ten people, sharing the 150 meter cove. 

In through the village, pass a bakery and then across the area towards Sainte-Genevieve. It is a patchwork of small roads in a real flat cane- and cattle-land. Here are at least five stubs of old windmills.

I have to stop at the edge of Le Moule, where a mangrove or lagoon crosses under the road. It look great, but also a but strange with mangrove trees on white sand. 

A bit further, I find the cosy town of Le Moule. Many old houses, lot of women’s dresses shops, carnival practice, bakers and a general great atmosphere. But despite the town is found along the coast, here are no sandy beach. I enjoy it till four, then find my way home.   Highlights   All the better photos.

Day 7. In an effort to do something else, I take a cruse to the Marie-Galante island. I have a return ticket with the ferry, but failed to communicate with any car-, nor moped rental companies. It is a 60 kilometres roundtrip; too much to walk in eight hours. 

The boat departures from Port-a-Prince, and I’ll better be in good time. As usual, I don’t really get to sleep, when I have an alarm set. I leave home, just like every other day, right after the morning showers (rain and me). The traffic is light, the parking close, and I get to sit and watch the fellow-travels for almost an hour, before we sail. It is an hour's eventless tour in a comfortable seat, on a large catamaran.

I do a quick walk in the central Grand-Bourg, then rent a Suzuki Jimny. It is €50, where a scooter is €37. Further more, I have failed to get a Jimny in several occasions, and I want to try it. (Now I have, and I'm not about to buy one, as I'm too tall).

I have a list of sights around the island, and start with Saint-Louis, a cosy little village along the coast. I see it all, and head on to the mangrove along Vieux-Fort river. A boardwalk leads in along the tea-brownish river, flanked by huge mangrove trees. 

I stop several times, when the road touches the golden sand beach with palm trees. 

Then the road gain height, and leads out to Gueule Grand Gouffre, some limestone cliffs. One cave have collapsed, leaving an arch. Further out through the dry bushes, a hole offers another nice view to the limestone cliffs.  

The landscape is mainly made up by cane, cattle fields and forest with some scatted settlement. I see the button of many old windmills, but Moulin de Bézard have the top and machinery for cane pressing. They are working on some new wings, up for the job. 

Next stop is – besides from several beaches - Capesterre-de-Marie-Galante, a larger village. I fail to find a baker, and a Schweppes Coco and some fig-cookies will have to do. Here are many and real nice wall decorations, old houses and a great beach. 

I am in good time, and make a loop over the central heights. Some roads are clearly for tractors, but my Jimny make it. I do a walk around the remains of Murat House, an old chateaux. Well, it have been, but years ago; not much is left. 

As I try to enter Grand-Bourg the road is blocked. They start a three day carnival tonight. I gas and return the car, and have an hour to see Grand-Bourg. Unfortunately, it seems like I did see it all, this morning. I get an overpriced coffee, and write the diary. I am home on my home island at dusk.  Highlights   All the better photos.

Day 8. I head down to the southern coast of Basse-Terre today. The morning shower drags out, and I get another cup of coffee at the porch. The finches are raiding the tiny bananas, the coffee bushes is flowering, the cane growing and the coconuts still hang around. The hummingbirds dine at the red-flowering ginger-plants, and I hear quite some other birds. 

It is a nice drive down south, although I fail to dodge the rain. The southern shortcut over the mountains seems great – a sunny day. I arrive in Basse-Terre town half pass eight, and it is real dead. I guess the rain don’t help. 

I start in the old harbour area, after giving up on dry weather. The harbour itself is modern concrete, but several streets along is, has a lot of cosy old wooden houses. 

Here is a distinct ”the day after the carnival feeling” Glitter in the gutter, broken folding chairs, a gathering of food trucks and a few, who clearly haven’t made it to bed yet.

People are exiting the church as I pass, giving me an idea of, it is not a bank-day. The men in white dresses indicate it. Actually, only the Chinese shops, bakeries and gambling shops are open. I see it all, and get a few glimpse of sun, along with quite some rain. The sky really opens, just as I pass the car. 

A bit out of the city, the old Fort Delgrés is found. It is intact, but not that big. It is located next to a deep ravine – and closed. The ravine is crossed by a beautiful old bridge; Le pont sur la riviere Galion, and I will have to return here, on a sunny day. 

Around the corner, the fancy marina of Riviere-Sens have a lot of moderns houses. I try the bakery for coffer, and have a breath chat with two German Journeyman; travelling craftsmen. 

Way down, on the southern tip, Phare de la Pointe du Vieux Fort offers some great views the black lava cliffs and the blue sea. The light-tower and some layers of perlite lightens up the black rocks. The fort is a bit worn-down.

A bit further inland, sandstone dominates, with some rocks in-bedded. The sun finally break through at the coast, but not convincing, and the mountains remain covered in black clouds. 

I make a short stop at Plage de Grande Anse, a black and magnetic sandy beach. It has just become low-tide, and the shadow crabs are real active. A single Lesser Antilles’ Iguana lies on a palm stem, crossing the lagoon. 

Trois-Rivieres is another old harbour town, and I hope for lunch. I start inland, around the huge church. Here is next to nothing, but worn down buildings and some failed new ones. Down at the seaside, the entire little village is stuffed with cars. I guess, the locals have a favourite beach here. 

In the edge of town, Parc Archéologique des Roches Gravées is found, but it is of cause closed today. I might get back – or not.  

I stop at Plage de Salée-Bananier, just to have a walk in the area. It is really nothing special, and I soon head on to Capesterre-Belle-Eau, just to see it – and find lunch. It turns out to be a disappointment. All shops including the gas-station are closed, the beach only huge boulders and hardly any old houses. Well, one is, and it is truly painted in bright colours. The sun remains misty, and I kind of give in at two. Lunch become a handful of chocolate bisques. 

A small trail leads in through the greenery along the large Grande Riviere de la Capesterre, and I follow it, to a farmers hut and cow. 

I swing by Plage de Sainte-Claire on the way home, expecting it to be packed. It is far from, as this is where the see-weed go to die. I find some green-haired rocks at the end of the beach, nothing else of interest. I try my local beach, kind of the same, except the road is flooded, bit in a nice way. I’m home at four, real early for once.   Highlights   All the better photos.
               And then into the next page; Diary 4.